An Echo from the Sea
This old ship rode
the Atlantic swells like
the Atlantic swells like
a swan in a pond and her crew where dead,
perhaps not at the time, but they are now,
generations of sailors boarding her, using
her as a place of sanctuary on their way to
a destination unknown to them.
And one by one, overcome by life they died
and drifted on the sea of broken life- belts to
the Saragossa where mist of sorrow covers
the bleak shore line of ruin and the ship
that rust on a reef; and the seamen were dead
perhaps not at the time, but they are now,
in my mind they are a sepia damaged photo
of forgotten moments.
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